


when i fall to rise with stardust in my eyes

by uaevuon



Series: Legends Never Die (the omegaverse geass AU) [11]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bondage, Dom Katsuki Yuuri, Enthusiastic Consent, FaceFucking, Immortality, Light Dom/sub, Love, M/M, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Sub Victor Nikiforov, Subspace, facesitting, figure skating, porn with angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 22:42:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18291704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uaevuon/pseuds/uaevuon
Summary: “You better kiss me goodnight!” Viktor said. He slapped his menu down on the table; the napkins lining their bread bowl fluttered. “I’ll need a thousand kisses just to make up for the pain you’ve caused me. Acting like our dates meant nothing to you, playing with my heart like that…” Viktor sank down in his seat, sprawling over the back of the chair, menu forgotten on top of his silverware. There were people staring at them, but he continued to be a drama queen, even as Yuuri blushed and hid his face.





	when i fall to rise with stardust in my eyes

**Author's Note:**

> **this work is part of a series, and will not make any sense without having read the previous parts.**
> 
> CW: implied death kink? no death but like. yeah

Yuuri watched the Rostelecom Cup medal ceremony with Viktor at his side and a roiling in his gut. He couldn’t figure out if he was annoyed or relieved, and had good reasons for both. 

According to the reassurances of the ISU official who bravely interrupted Yuuri’s public cry-fest after JJ’s scores were announced, Yuuri was in fact going to the Grand Prix Final. That was a relief; the journey wasn’t over yet. 

However, Yuuri was moving on based on a rule that allowed him, with one silver medal, to qualify instead of Michele Crispino, with two bronzes, even though they had the same number of points in their series ranking. That was annoying at best — infuriating, to be truthful. Success based on a technicality… it felt wrong. Yuuri could do better. Even last season, when he’d been nowhere near as skilled, and hadn’t Viktor to push him forward, he’d done so much better.

He’d gone to the previous year’s Final with no need for squeezing in on a technicality, because he’d scored high enough with his two silvers that he was ranked fourth before he left for Sochi. Then he’d been third after the short program, and then he got that call, and finally he self-destructed in the free skate. 

It would have felt wrong to win back then, to have a medal draped over his shoulders when he’d lost so much. Looking back Yuuri knew he wouldn’t have been able to accept a victory or even a podium place, not when the weight of all he’d given up to get here crashed around him. Not with his childhood puppy gone from the world, his family apologetic even as they mourned the pet they’d cared for in his place for all the years of Yuuri’s absence. 

Yuuri wanted another chance! But this didn’t feel right. 

Still, Michele didn’t seem to hold any animosity against him (or at least, not any more than Michele usually did for the simple annoyance of Yuuri having caught his twin sister’s attention). He even allowed Yuuri to hug him, though he screamed when his sister did the same. Sara seemed rather pleased at the contact. 

Yuuri ended up with his arms around each of the skaters, including Yuri Plisetsky after a hard-won race through the arena’s hallways. Even a few coaches offered a quick and generally awkward embrace. 

In the end, no-one’s hugs were as good as Viktor’s, and so Yuuri didn’t leave his side the rest of the night. They stood close on the Metro with only a subway pole between them, they squeezed into a corner of their hotel’s elevator, and they even showered together, Yuuri sleepy as Viktor rinsed him down in the cramped stall. Viktor was the one to get Yuuri into his pyjamas and bundle him into the sheets, to wrap around him like an octopus until Yuuri slipped into a fitful but unwaking sleep. 

In the morning, they elected to skip the gala and sleep in until the banquet. Yuuri didn’t have to skate, as he hadn’t won a medal, and though Viktor knew from his scan of social media on Yuuri’s wrist device that many were looking forward to seeing his exhibition again, he also knew his Yuuri needed the rest more than the publicity.

So he watched Yuuri sleep, the light of the day just barely sneaking in through the cracks in the closed curtains. Viktor read beside him, making his way through several books he’d picked up from the borrowing library in the lobby when he brought up breakfast. Yuuri had eaten and then went right back into dreamland, and so Viktor made a dreamland of his own in novels. 

Chosen at random from the shelves marked _fantasy_ , they ended up mostly rather simple, sometimes trite, riffs on classics that didn’t quite measure up. Still, Viktor enjoyed them, if merely for the pleasure of reading while one hand played idly in Yuuri’s soft-as-clouds hair, drawing tiny snuffling noises from the slumbering man every so often when Viktor brushed a sensitive spot or his nails scraped. 

Eventually, Yuuri woke; it was afternoon by that point, and Viktor could only smile down at his bleary-eyed boyfriend, deeply in love. 

He tried not to notice that Yuuri’s left eye was still magenta around the edges, though it didn’t bear the seal of their contract. Yuuri would see it eventually, and would understand the need for a last few moments of normalcy before Viktor had to explain that, despite Yuuri’s attempts to control it, the contract was growing due to disuse, forcing its way out. 

Viktor had made many contracts over the years, and had never once found a person who could keep it in check. Whether they over-used their newfound power, or shied away from it, the contract would grow, demanding to be satisfied, to complete itself by taking the code of Viktor’s curse, whether his wish was granted or not. There was a middle ground, he’d been told, a mastery of balancing use and self-control that could hold back the contract, but Viktor wasn’t sure he believed it. 

“Viktor,” Yuuri called. His voice croaked, and he cleared his throat. He made a soft moan as he stretched. “What time is it?”

“One-thirty or so. Hungry?”

“Mm-hmm.” Yuuri sat up. “Are we going to the banquet later?” 

“I don’t think I can get us out of it.” 

Yuuri nodded slowly. 

“Yuuri. I’m very proud of you.” 

Yuuri smiled at him, wobbly and insecure. He tilted his chin up, and Viktor met him in a soft kiss. 

“I’ll take you somewhere nice for lunch, yeah?” Viktor rubbed his hand up and down Yuuri’s arm, and allowed Yuuri to lean against him, eyes closing in a smile.

Yuuri nodded and stole another kiss. “Sure. Show me what Russian food tastes like.” 

“If you wanted to eat Russian, we can just stay in bed --”

Yuuri pushed at Viktor’s arm, the two of them giggling like children. They leaned their heads together until their giggles turned to sighs, and Yuuri spoke again. “I’m going to the Grand Prix Final.”

“You are.” 

“I still don’t believe I deserve it.”

“You do. You skated beautifully, and you will again, and you’ll show your love to the whole world.”

Yuuri’s nose touched Viktor’s jaw, and he nuzzled in a bit. “I will. I swear, I’m going to skate so perfectly, they won’t know what hit them.”

“I know you will.” 

“Maybe I should add a quad flip to my short program.” 

Viktor’s breath stuttered. “You don’t think that’s too much?” 

Yuuri shrugged. “I could use the points. My technical score is so much lower than J.J.’s.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Viktor said, trying to distract him. “No talk of skating today, not until the banquet.” 

“Yes, coach,” Yuuri said. He demanded more kisses, but eventually Viktor coaxed him out of bed. 

Viktor knew nothing of the restaurants in the area, recognizing little after so long away. So he did what any obscenely old romantic Russian man would do: he asked the first pair of white-haired grandmothers he happened across where they went for their most recent anniversary, gave them a short story about his _beautiful, adoring boyfriend over there, look at him, he is the light of my life_ , who he wanted to surprise and spoil, and they cooed and patted his pink cheeks and sent him off in the direction of a quiet, brightly-lit place with an indoor garden theme and no prices on the menu. 

At lunchtime, it wasn’t a formal setting, which was all the better. Yuuri had only brought the hideous suit he wore to competition banquets, and the jacket and tie were just mortifying but the pants, at least, fit alright. He wasn’t turned away without a full three-piece suit and tie, and the server showed them to a second-floor table at the windows of a shuttered balcony. There weren’t too many patrons about at this time, a bit late for lunch but much too early for dinner. 

“So, I guess this is our second date,” Yuuri said with only his eyes showing above the screen of his menu. 

Viktor stared, trying to figure out if this was a joke. “We’ve been on many more dates than that.”

“You never said they were dates.”

“Do I have to specify every time I go out with my boyfriend? Good to know.” Viktor pouted. He considered getting the three-bean salad with onions, just to spite Yuuri. 

“Aww, you don’t. I was going to say, since it’s our second date, I’ll kiss you goodnight this time.” 

Viktor snorted and smacked himself in the face with his menu. “Yuuri, you’re ridiculous.” 

“I think you have me beat there.” 

“You better kiss me goodnight!” Viktor said. He slapped his menu down on the table; the napkins lining their bread bowl fluttered. “I’ll need a thousand kisses just to make up for the pain you’ve caused me. Acting like our dates meant nothing to you, playing with my heart like that…” Viktor sank down in his seat, sprawling over the back of the chair, menu forgotten on top of his silverware. There were people staring at them, but he continued to be a drama queen, even as Yuuri blushed and hid his face. 

“I’ll do much more than kiss you,” Yuuri whispered, and Viktor instantly sat up properly. He leaned forward, excited. 

“Yeah? Like what?” Viktor asked, breathless. 

“I can’t tell you here!” Yuuri hid further, paying very close attention to the short menu. 

“Aww. What happened to the Yuuri who grabbed my butt in front of the cameras three weeks ago?” 

“There’s a difference…” 

“I guess it’s alright. I’m sure I’ll like anything you want to do to me.” 

Things quickly devolved into barely-concealed nonsense. Playing footsie under the table while Viktor relayed their orders to the server, making terrible jokes at every opportunity as they conversed, snickering into their wine. For a little over an hour, it was like they were two regular people. Not an immortal and his witch, nor two world-famous figure skaters, but just two young omegas falling in love under hanging baskets of blooming lilies. 

With hands laced together on the table, Yuuri watched as Viktor fiddled with his fingers, first the pinky, then his ring finger. His left hand sat warm in Viktor’s right, and Viktor squeezed him until their eyes met. Viktor’s little smile widened, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. 

Yuuri looked away. His boyfriend was too pretty; if he stared too long, he might lose his face. 

“Yuuuuuri,” Viktor called, drawing out his name in a whine. “Look at me. I’m always looking at you.” 

Yuuri eyed their intertwined hands again. Viktor tugged on him. A little whine escaped Viktor’s lips, and Yuuri finally met his eyes again, tentative at first, blinking too much, but then steady as he took in Viktor’s features for the thousandth time. The freckles sprinkled on his nose, the pink bow of his lips, the dimple that only set into his right cheek, and the tiny bit of glittery, golden highlighter just under the outer corners of Viktor’s eyes. 

“What are you thinking?” Viktor asked. “Staring at me with a look like that on your face.”

Yuuri had no idea what expression he’d been making, but he answered honestly. “I’m thinking about how pretty you are.” 

Viktor’s cheeks pinked, and the sparkle of his glitter became even more stark against his skin. “Yuuri!” 

“What? Don’t act like you don’t know.” 

“I do, it’s just different when you say it.”

“Is it?” Yuuri smirked; he hadn’t teased Viktor enough today, apparently. “My pretty omega.” 

“ _Yuuri!_ ” 

Yuuri laughed. “Pretty, pretty, precious Vitya.”

“Keep saying I’m pretty, Yuuri. I love hearing it.” 

“Do you?” Yuuri’s heart sped up at that L-word; it sat warm and fuzzy in his belly, lighting him up from the inside. “I’ll have to tell you more often. I’ll tell you every day for as long as you stay with me.” 

“And how long do you want me to stay?” Viktor asked. 

Yuuri saw the hesitance in Viktor’s eyes, the nervousness that he’d asked that question at all. He wanted to reassure Viktor, to say _forever_ , but all the same, Yuuri was nervous too. “At least until I retire. I’ll need you to take care of me.” 

Relief flooded Viktor’s expression. “I hope you never retire, then.” His hand tightened around Yuuri’s, and Yuuri squeezed back. 

(If Yuuri noticed that Viktor kissed his ring finger on the walk back to the hotel, under the guise of warming up Yuuri’s hands, he didn’t say anything. After all, it had sounded a bit like a proposal.) 

\---

The banquet was hardly worth mentioning. Yuuri stayed off in a corner with Viktor, feeling awkward around so many people he wasn’t particularly friendly with. Yuri avoided the pair of them like the plague, if there was a plague in the world that could yet hurt him. A few skaters came up and congratulated Yuuri on making it to the Final, though they left soon after. Only Mila Babicheva was brave enough to stick around for long, her feisty exuberance breaking through Yuuri’s obvious preference to be literally anywhere else in the universe but here. Even she eventually left, and the only ones left to bother Yuuri were those few sponsors who wanted to put in a good word before the Final, just in case he won, which Yuuri was quite aware not a single one of them believed he would. 

At least Yuuri didn’t have to go it alone. Viktor was by his side, and Yuuri fielded congratulatory text messages from his family, his few friends, and the group chat of his pack of hockey players back in Detroit. Robustelli (number 18) gave a wildly misspelled and emoji-laden message that Yuuri was pretty sure communicated they would send him a gold medal that the team had handmade for him, and when Yuuri begged them not to, Burke (number 66) said it was already in the mail and that it was made of chocolate and Kostakis (number 7) said the ribbon was a multicolor sour gummy strip. Yuuri, of course, could not turn down such a generous offer of pity chocolate and gay bacon from his pack, so he thanked them and promised to call soon with his coach, which made the group chat fill with excited caps locked gratitude. 

Viktor was the one to steer them back up to the room, when Yuuri was swaying on his feet and the other skaters had just started to leave. Yuuri leaned against him in the elevator, his horrid navy suit wrinkling, and his eyes closed halfway. 

“What time’s our flight?” Yuuri asked. 

“Early, unfortunately. We’ll have to leave by five.” 

Yuuri groaned. He turned his face away from the light. “Can you just carry me there?”

“Sure. I’ll carry you all the way back to Japan, in your pyjamas.” Viktor pressed a kiss into Yuuri’s hair. He watched Yuuri blink slowly at him in the mirrored wall of the elevator car, watched his beautiful mahogany eyes take in the picture of the two of them leaned together. Even with Yuuri in the awful, unflattering suit, they made a pretty pair. 

And then Yuuri’s left eye changed, magenta bleeding in from the rim of his iris. 

Viktor watched as Yuuri’s entire demeanour shifted, as soon as he caught the change in his reflection. It was no secret at this point that Yuuri was uncomfortable with the contract, and saw it as a curse rather than any sort of benefit. He didn’t regret taking it, but he also didn’t enjoy it. 

“It’s been doing that. Coming back when there’s no-one around. Staying for too long.” Yuuri sighed. He looked away from the mirror, focussing on Viktor’s shining gold tie clip. His fingers came up to fiddle with it and the purple silk it clung to. 

“I’m sorry,” Viktor said. 

“It’s not your fault. You warned me it would grow beyond my control if I tried to suppress it. I didn’t listen.” Yuuri disentangled himself from Viktor. He moved close to the mirror wall and put a finger on the top of his cheek, pulling down his eyelid to see the whole thing. 

The ring encircled the whole of his iris, and was growing, slower than usual, filling in the circle with a film of reddish-purple. Soon, the circle would fill to his pupil, and the bird-like symbol of his contract would appear. 

“It’s not so bad,” Yuuri said. “I guess making other people feel my emotions isn’t the best thing I could’ve asked for, but I like that it’s your contract doing this to me. It’s like a symbol that we belong to each other, that my eye matches your scar.”

Viktor reached up to touch that scar, beneath the fringe of his hair. “Plenty of people have this scar, though. I’m far from the only immortal in the world.”

“True, but this one is yours.” He turned to face Viktor, too beautiful for words and the contract flaring to life in his eye. “I like being yours.”

The doors swept open, revealing their floor. “Come on,” Viktor said, taking Yuuri’s hand. He whispered in Yuuri’s ear, “The response I have in mind shouldn’t be given in public.” 

Yuuri let Viktor drag him down the hall, a bounce in his step. He let Viktor open the door, then push him up against it once it was closed, and kiss him breathless. He let Viktor tug at his clothes -- first his tie, then his belt buckle, and finally the buttons of his shirt came loose, the tails untucked, and Yuuri had enough. 

He pushed Viktor back. “On the bed.” 

“I thought I was showing you my appreciation.”

“You will.” Yuuri walked Viktor backwards. He threaded the tie out from around his own neck, looped it in half over his hand. “The head board’s pretty sturdy, wouldn’t you say?” 

“Oh fu-- yes, yes, wow--” Viktor stammered out more excitement as he scrambled onto the bed. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Not anymore. How are your wrists?” Yuuri asked, looping the tie again. 

“Can I take off my suit first?” 

“Is it priceless?”

Viktor shook his head. It was a nice suit, to be sure, charcoal wool and lilac accents, tailored to fit like a glove, but it was from last season’s ready-to-wear, and --

“Then, no. Wrists?” 

Viktor whimpered. He raised his arms, resting his crossed wrists against an ornamental loop at the base of the headboard. It was solid wood, dark and heavy and over an inch thick, and when Yuuri crawled on top of Viktor with his shirt half-open and the seal of their contract blazing bright in his eye, it was as if Viktor had already been pinned down and tied. 

“Answer my question, Viktor.”

“My wrists are fine. Shoulders, arms, everything. No problems. _Please_.”

Yuuri smiled, and his eyes blazed with heat, one a comforting brown, the other striking in magenta. “I’m going to tie your hands to the bed. I’m going to undress you… mostly. I’m going to sit on your face, and then I’m going to fuck you. Sound good?” 

“Yes! Yesyesyes--”

“Shh.” 

Yuuri didn’t have to shush him twice. Viktor bit his lips together, quiet as a mouse while Yuuri looped the tie around his forearms twice, passed the ends between his wrists, checked the tightness, then tied it off with one of the head board’s slats caught between Viktor’s flexors. 

In a soft voice he said, “If your hands start to feel cold or tingly, or you need to breathe, or even if you just want to stop, all you have to do is say so.” He started to undress, then made an expression of realization. “And if your mouth is too full to talk, kick the mattress twice. Yes? Nod for yes.”

Viktor nodded. 

Yuuri yanked down Viktor’s pants, leaving them rumpled around his ankles. He opened up Viktor’s jacket, then his shirt, button-by-button, starting from the bottom, and pushed it open, rumpled all to hell around his shoulders. Very last was Viktor’s own tie; Yuuri drew it out from around Viktor’s neck and held it in his hands for a moment. 

“I could blindfold you,” he mused. “But I want you to look at me.” So the tie fell from his fingers to coil on the bed. 

Yuuri’s jacket and shirt fell to the bed as well. He undid his fly and started to push his pants down. His cock jutted forward, and Viktor could see the shine between his legs where he’d started to drip. 

“Make as much noise as you want, but the only word out of your mouth is my name.”

“Yuuri,” Viktor called immediately. He tilted his head up for a kiss. 

Yuuri smiled as he leaned down, and he pecked Viktor on the lips. He shuffled the rest of the way out of his pants and sat back on his heels, allowing Viktor a moment to admire him as he stroked his cock, as he slipped two fingers down, drawing up wetness to slick himself. 

“What do you want first?” Yuuri asked. “My cock, or my cunt?” 

“Yuuri,” Viktor repeated, and he opened his mouth, tongue sticking out just a bit, ready for whatever Yuuri gave him. 

“Good answer.” Yuuri straddled Viktor’s chest, looking down at him. For a moment, Viktor wondered if he really could respond to Yuuri’s contract ability after all, because he could feel the same adoration that he saw reflected in Yuuri’s eyes. But no -- that was his own love. 

Viktor let himself look Yuuri up and down, from his striking eyes to his rounded face, his narrow shoulders, his delicious nipples. Oh, how Viktor wanted to taste them again. 

Then Yuuri was moving, rising up onto his knees. “God, you’re so pretty. And all mine.”

“Yuuri’s,” Viktor confirmed. Maybe it was pushing the bounds of Yuuri’s rules, but Yuuri seemed to like it. 

“Cute.” Yuuri poked Viktor in the cheek. “Don’t be a smartass. I intend to make you forget your own name. All that’s left will be mine.” 

Yuuri started to stroke himself again, nice and slow. His thumb swiped back and forth over the head of his cock, and Viktor watched, enthralled. A bead of slick slipped out from Yuuri’s folds, followed by a slow, viscous trickle, wetting Yuuri’s stubbled lips. He’d shaved, this time. 

Viktor’s tongue peeked out of his mouth, and he wanted, he _needed_. 

Then Yuuri shuffled forward and his hand gripped Viktor’s hair. “You ready?”

Viktor nodded. He begged with his eyes -- _please, Yuuri, please let me eat your delicious cunt!_

Yuuri’s hips lowered, slowly, until he was close enough for Viktor to kiss. Viktor did, and he grabbed hold of Yuuri’s quiet hiss and filed it away in his heart forever. Yuuri’s thighs shook as he lowered further, his cunt fitting over Viktor’s open mouth, and he sighed loud from low in his throat as Viktor began to eat him out. 

Viktor’s tongue parted Yuuri’s folds, immediately demanding a taste. He moaned with Yuuri, the earthy flavor heavy on his tongue.

Yuuri put his full weight on Viktor, crying out. “Yes!” 

Viktor hummed as he licked into Yuuri. His lips moved in open-mouthed kisses, sucking at Yuuri’s softest skin. He hadn’t much experience with this, and none before Yuuri, but he loved it and he loved Yuuri and his enthusiasm seemed to be enough, the way Yuuri rocked against him. He sucked harder, pulling one of Yuuri’s lips into his mouth, then between his teeth, delighting in Yuuri’s startled yelp and the subsequent confused moan as he tried to work out whether it hurt or felt good. Viktor bit a little harder, and the moan turned guttural; Yuuri’s cunt throbbed, and slick dripped onto Viktor’s chin. 

“Vitya,” Yuuri called. “More.” 

Viktor wished he could hold Yuuri, pull him down, make him grind against Viktor’s face for all it was worth. It wasn’t as if Viktor would suffocate, and he’d more than enjoy the rough drag of stubble across his lips and cheeks and chin. His nose brushed the apex of Yuuri’s labia, where his cock emerged from the folds, and his tongue lapped at Yuuri’s hole, tasting fresh slick and making Yuuri shiver and clench. 

“Fuck me.” 

So Viktor did. He pushed his tongue in, slowly, painstakingly as Yuuri squeezed hard, then all at once as Yuuri forced himself to relax. 

“Oh -- yes. Yeah, just like that.” 

Yuuri didn’t make it easy, his hips ever rocking, but Viktor tongued him as best he could, and Yuuri absolutely gushed over his mouth and chin. Viktor sucked at his inner lips, and Yuuri squeaked and whined; Viktor nibbled, getting a bit of skin at the base of Yuuri’s cock between his teeth, and the fist in his hair tightened. 

“Good. So good, Vitya, you’re so good for me, and all mine.” Yuuri leaned back and planted his hands on Viktor’s chest, giving him more leverage to push against Viktor’s hot mouth. “More, darling, _more_.”

_Darling_. Viktor’s eyes squeezed shut; warmth washed over him at the endearment. It made him feel loved, adored, precious; it made him feel like he was the only thing that mattered in Yuuri’s eyes. He hummed, with his tongue as deep in Yuuri as he could stretch it, and Yuuri whined so loud Viktor expected the neighbor to start knocking again. 

Yuuri reached forward and grabbed Viktor’s hair again, pulling him away. “Too much,” he breathed. “W-wait, I. I want to.” He stuttered a bit, then gave up, just breathing for a moment while he looked down at Viktor’s swollen lips, the slick on his chin. 

“Fuck,” Yuuri gasped. “You’re beautiful.” 

Viktor whined, wanting to say it back. 

“I know. I know, gorgeous.” Yuuri stroked Viktor’s hair, pushed his fringe out of his eyes, traced the lines of his scar. 

Viktor nuzzled into his hand, feeling happy tears weigh down his eyelashes. 

“I love you.” 

Gasping, Viktor shut his eyes, the tears falling onto his cheeks. He felt a thumb at his lips, and parted them enough to allow Yuuri to push the digit in, sucking gently. 

“I love you,” Yuuri repeated, quieter. “You can’t stop me from saying it, now. I love you so much.” 

The tears flowed freely, and Viktor sobbed, a whine working its way up from his throat. He continued to suck on Yuuri’s thumb, allowing him to push down on his tongue, to test his gag reflex. 

“Should I stop?” Yuuri asked, his genuine concern softening his voice. He started to pull his thumb from Viktor’s mouth, but Viktor followed as best he could, straining against the tie, and whined again, humming in the negative. “You want to keep going? Say my name if you want to keep going.” 

Viktor pulled back only enough to mumble “Yuuri” around the digit between his lips. _Don’t stop. You can’t stop, not now that you’ve made me feel this. You’ll kill me._

“Okay. Okay, we’ll keep going. I love you so much. You’re so beautiful, you’re perfect.” Yuuri sounded frantic as he stroked Viktor’s face, as he moved back into place. “You want my cock, darling?” 

“Yuuri.” 

“Of course.”

Yuuri pushed his cock down with the tips of his fingers. He bit his lip as the sensitive head touched Viktor’s pink, spit-shiny mouth. Viktor kissed it, the flushed head, the salty droplet at the very tip. He sucked gently, made Yuuri shudder as he showered the head with wet kisses and kitten licks. 

Viktor murmured nonsensicalities against Yuuri’s cock. He kissed it again, pulled at the foreskin with his lips. 

“Mm.” Yuuri closed his eyes for just a moment, holding back a moan. Viktor pulled on his foreskin again, and Yuuri moaned aloud. His hips jerked, and his cock bumped against Viktor’s nose, making them both laugh. 

“You want it, my love?” Yuuri asked. He held his cock over Viktor’s lips, and smiled when Viktor leaned up to rub his face against it. 

“Mmm, Yuuri…” Viktor moaned, and closed his eyes. When Yuuri rubbed his cock against Viktor’s cheek, over his eye and nose, Viktor looked completely blissed-out, as if he were the one whose cock was getting off against the face of a beautiful man. 

“Open up, darling.” 

Viktor’s lips parted, and Yuuri pushed the head in. Immediately Viktor moaned, and his eyes opened half-lidded, just barely enough to see Yuuri’s flushed face, his dilated pupils, the pulsating red-purple of their contract. 

“So hot,” Yuuri murmured, pushing in deeper. “Oh, god, Viktor, your mouth…” Viktor sucked him down greedily. He gagged when Yuuri hit the back of his throat, but whined when Yuuri started to pull back out, so Yuuri pushed forward, and this time Viktor swallowed around him. 

“Ah!” Yuuri’s hand tightened in Viktor’s hair, and his whole body tensed. 

Viktor moaned, muffled by the cock in his throat. He could hardly breathe, but it didn’t matter to him; if he choked to death on Yuuri’s cock, he’d just come back to finish Yuuri off. It’d be the most enjoyable death so far, bar none, and he hoped Yuuri wouldn’t notice, would just keep on using his fuckhole mouth like a toy. 

Could he ask for that? _Yuuri, my love, my sun and moon and stars, please kill me with your cock, with your gorgeous thighs and perfect ass, and keep using me until I come back to you._

Fuck, if only. It was too late now. 

Yuuri pulled out, then shoved his cock back in, and Viktor really did choke then. Tears of pain leaked from his eyes to join those drying on his cheeks, and Yuuri pulled out completely. 

“Oh, fuck, Viktor, I’m so sorry --”

“ _Yuuri_ ,” Viktor rasped. He opened his mouth, let his tongue loll out, and moaned in a way that he hoped conveyed _put your cock back in my throat or so help me--_

Yuuri fucked into Viktor’s mouth again, stopping just short of where Viktor gagged; on the next thrust, he shoved right through, and when Viktor choked, Yuuri trembled but didn’t back away, not until the spasms subsided. Viktor sobbed in earnest in the moments Yuuri afforded him between thrusts, and still he wanted more, absolutely revelling in the relentless press of Yuuri’s cock, the drip of Yuuri’s cunt against his neck and chin. 

Yuuri’s thumb stroked away tears from beneath Viktor’s eye. Then Yuuri brought his hand to his mouth and licked the saltiness off, before he cradled Viktor’s head in his hands. 

“Vitya, I’m gonna cum.” He didn’t let up; the feeling rushed in too fast, but Viktor craved and Yuuri gave him exactly what he needed. “I’m gonna, oh, _Viktor!_ ” Yuuri spilled down Viktor’s throat, too deep for Viktor to even taste it, and Viktor made a horrible wet noise as he tried to swallow. Yuuri’s cunt spasmed with the orgasm, fluid escaping him in a rush, and he cried out. His hips rolled once, twice more, and then he collapsed forward against the headboard. 

Yuuri pulled out right away, and scrambled with jelly limbs to Viktor’s level. “Vitya?” 

Viktor coughed hard, over and over, awful wet things that garbled his sobs, but his cock still stood hard and proud against the press of Yuuri’s legs, and when Viktor finally caught his breath, all he could say was “thank you, thank you Yuuri, thank you.”

“Shh, shh.” Yuuri stroked Viktor’s hair, his shoulders, his chest, trying to soothe as best he could even as he wiped his own slick from Viktor’s skin. “Are you okay?”

“Yuuri,” Viktor mumbled weakly. He kissed Yuuri’s palm and turned his face into it. “Yuuri.” 

“Yes, beautiful?” 

He raised his hips slightly, pressing the leaking tip of his cock against Yuuri’s thigh. “Mm. Yuuri.”

“I know, love. Wait a minute. I want to make sure you’re okay. Did I hurt you?”

“Yuuri.” 

“Vitya, please talk to me.” 

Viktor shook his head, and kissed Yuuri’s hand again. He fidgeted, his hips turning this way and that, trying to draw Yuuri’s attention away from his aching throat and to his aching cock, his dripping cunt that needed filling. 

“Vitya, I love you, and I want to fuck you too, but I need to know how you’re feeling. I need to take care of you.” 

Viktor only rolled his hips again, whining as he felt his cock brush against Yuuri’s soft one. 

Yuuri shuddered. The slide of skin against his sensitive cock was too much just yet. “V-Vitya, what do you need?”

“‘M fine,” Viktor managed. “Fuck me.” 

“Vitya?” 

“You promised,” Viktor mouthed into the meat of Yuuri’s palm, into his wrist. He kissed at Yuuri’s scent gland, sucked at it until he could taste Yuuri’s earthy musk on his tongue. 

“Your throat--”

“‘S fine,” Viktor urged. It wasn’t, but it would be sooner than he’d like, if Yuuri didn’t make him scream himself hoarse, which Viktor very much wanted. 

Yuuri watched him with worried eyes, then realized: “Right, right. You heal.” Yuuri kissed him then, soft and dry, until Viktor sucked his lip between his teeth and licked into his mouth. The kiss turned dirty fast, loud sucking noises popping as they exchanged moans and sweetness, and Yuuri tasted himself on Viktor. 

Yuuri’s hands stroked down Viktor’s face, his neck, his flushed chest. He tweaked Viktor’s nipples, then pinched harder when Viktor moaned. His thumbs massaged the indented points, coaxing them to hardness, and Viktor writhed beneath him, eyes closed and chin tucked to his chest, teeth grit against the whimpers that escaped him. 

“So sensitive,” Yuuri said. “Love this about you.” 

“Yuuri,” Viktor whined, but Yuuri shushed him. 

“It’s okay, darling. I’ll take care of you.” He kissed Viktor again, soft and sweet. “Don’t worry; don’t think. Just feel it.” 

Viktor whined again as Yuuri thumbed the hard points, subsiding into whimpers at the unrelenting strokes. Fingers, then soon after lips and tongue, played with Viktor’s nipples until he was a squirming mess, and he could feel the puddle beneath him on the sheets. Yuuri bit, first gently, then harder, leaving indents of his teeth around the swollen bud. He licked to soothe, then blew cool air over the heated skin, and smiled as Viktor cried out. 

“Feels good, hmm?” 

Viktor nodded. His lips were thoroughly bitten from trying to control his speech. 

“How good, darling?” Yuuri teased. He lay on Viktor’s chest, fingertips idly stroking smooth pink that was starting to bruise. 

“Mmn, Yuuri…” 

“Come on, what do you need? You know I couldn’t deny you when you’re moaning so pretty for me.” 

“ _Yuuri_.” 

“What? You need Yuuri?” He laughed and kissed Viktor’s chest, between the hands that still teased him. “I’m right here, my love. Or do you want me inside you?” 

Viktor nodded; his hips lifted from the bed. 

“Want to cum?” Yuuri asked. “Or worried you’ll cum too soon?” 

Viktor turned his head to the side, trying to hide in the crook of his arm while he couldn’t move away from Yuuri’s too-discerning gaze. 

“I thought so. You’re going to cum just from me touching your nipples, aren’t you?” 

Viktor pleaded to Yuuri with his eyes, making a sad puppy expression that Yuuri almost gave in to. 

“Oh, but I want you to. I’m going to make you cum just like this, and then when I’m good and ready I’ll fuck you until we both cum again. Yeah?” 

Viktor’s mouth opened in a shout as Yuuri pinched him, hard. 

“Tell me, Vitya, did I taste good?” 

“Mm-hmm,” Viktor hummed. 

“Did I taste the way I smell? Yeah? Wow, you must have really liked it.” Yuuri smiled down at Viktor, who struggled to express to Yuuri with his limited speech and his hardly lucid mind how _yes_ , Yuuri tasted good and _yes_ , he loved it and _yes please please_ could he pretty please do it again and wouldn’t Yuuri please just let him cum already? 

“Don’t pull too hard on that tie, Vitya. We wouldn’t want your hands going numb, would we?” 

What could Viktor even do to explain that it didn’t _matter_ , didn’t Yuuri see? It didn’t matter if he went numb or burst a nerve or bled or _died_ as far as Yuuri knew. No matter what horrible things Yuuri could do to him, Viktor would always bounce back from it, he didn’t need to be so sweet and caring as if Viktor was a normal human who needed to be coddled and cherished and --

Oh. 

_Oh_. 

Yuuri wasn’t doing this because he thought Viktor would break. He was doing this because of how much he cared. How much he loved --

_Oh_ \-- and for the first time since his very first death, Viktor’s mind went quiet. 


End file.
